You Missed A Spot
by Literary Bitca
Summary: A bulked up version of/continuation of the final scene between Red and Liz in 2x02. I wanted them to flesh things out just a BIT more. ;) So I did it for them.


You Missed A Spot

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Blacklist, nor do I make money off of this.

Author's note: After watching 2x02, I feel like there was so much not being said in the final scene between Red and Liz, which I love, I really do. I understand why the writers did it and I know one of the greatest things about this show is that they only give you little bits to chew on each week, and never a full meal... but that doesn't mean I can't give an alternate version of events. I did the same thing with 2x01 and my story Given Name, and that thing took on a life of its own… This is just a single extra addition to the last scene of Monarch Douglas Bank. If the episodes keep giving me a burning desire to write a more Lizzington-friendly conclusion to each one, I may make this a collection of alternate or additional scenes as needed. :) Who knows.

So: this fic starts with the scene we _got,_ and ends with the continuation that is cheesy, and angsty, and yes, possibly slightly out of character. But that's the beauty of fanfic. We get to play with the characters without damaging their storyline on the actual show.

…..:::::

Liz walked in through the unlocked door to the suite. "Your door was open," she said, stopping in the entryway, unwilling to fully enter the room.

Reddington turned from the view at the window, "Yes," he agreed. Silence stretched between them as he regarded her across the room. "Thank you," he said finally, his voice low and serious.

"You're an asset I'm charged with protecting," Liz corrected, her voice without a hint of kindness. "I transferred the money to keep you safe. I was just doing my job. As far as I'm concerned, every life that psycho takes from this point forward is on you." The hard look on Liz's face broke slightly, and her eyebrows raised slightly along with her voice. "I hope she's worth it…?"

Red ignored Liz's lecture entirely, stepping forward, advancing closer into Liz's personal space than he would under normal circumstances. "It's funny. When I was standing there wondering whether you'd decided to let me die, a thought struck me." Red stopped in front of Liz, his head tilted, and the ghost of a sardonic smile on his face. Liz could smell the alcohol on his breath, and wondered how much of the half empty bottle on the desk had been consumed in just the last few hours. "How did you know Berlin had his money in that bank?" he continued, his voice dropping to a low growl.

Liz wanted to move. She wanted to back up, preserve the space. Reddington's proximity had been such a source of comfort before, holding her hand, holding _her_ as she cried, but the way he had advanced on her tonight was different. The way he was looking at her was _different_. Just as she made up her mind to move—away from him, toward him—Reddington raised his eyebrows in a gesture of capitulation and turned away. Liz breathed out.

"At first I thought it was the girl," Reddington explained, walking back toward the couch and sitting. "_She_ told you. But the accounts would be coded, moved through shell corporations, layers of protection. Then I realized, no—" Red smiled without humor, stretching his arms out along the cushions, "—somebody has a Secret Santa. A source." Red's voice dropped. "Bravo, Lizzie," he congratulated. "When you're ready to share, I'd love to hear." His face, usually so composed, now gave away his sadness and regret at the situation they now found themselves in. She had worked against him before, but this time felt personal, and Liz could tell they had lost some of the trust he had been desperately fighting and scraping to collect between them over the last year.

Liz didn't even attempt to hide her disappointment in him as she moved to the door to leave. An afterthought struck her, and she turned back. "How do we know Kaja gave up all the accounts at Monarch?"

"What would possibly motivate her to do otherwise?" Red asked stoically.

"A new identity when this is all over. A sizeable contribution to her pension. In exchange for protecting you and your friends," she said with derision.

"Lizzie, don't be absurd, I don't have any friends," Red answered smoothly, but his eyes were accusing and resentful.

Liz felt his stare burn her back as she left.

…..:::::

Twenty minutes later, as Reddington finished what he promised himself would be the last glass of whiskey and began to unbutton his vest, the door to the suite opened again and Liz walked quickly into the center of the room, the door swinging shut behind her, closing louder than was polite at such an hour. Reddington turned to her in surprise.

"You really do need to lock that door," she scolded him harshly.

"What are you doing back here, Lizzie?" Red asked in a defeated tone. "I thought we covered everything pretty well the last time you were here."

"No, I think we left everything pretty vague, actually," she said, shifting from one foot to the other and settling her hands on her hips and staring pointedly at Red.

"Are you here to clear the air about the identity of your source? Apologize for insinuating that I'm no more than a common informant, and an objective part of your day job? Make amends for barging in here—twice?—without knocking?" Reddington continued unbuttoning his vest, but made no move to shrug it off as he advanced on Liz. He stopped at the same borderline intrusive distance as he had not a half hour before and looked at her with composed curiosity. "Are you here to ask me again if I believe my wife is 'worth it'?" he asked with a disparaging tone, his deep voice barely above a whisper.

Liz held her ground, lifting her chin. "You still call her your wife. Not your ex-wife. You're not married anymore," she pointed out. "I can't help but notice you're not with her now."

Red attempted his practiced smile, but it slid off his face quickly. "I've seen her. She has not seen me. After being kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured… I really didn't think she needed a reunion with the man who set this entire macabre Rube Goldberg machine in motion."

"You still care for her," Liz said accusingly.

Red took an additional step toward Liz. "Your tone suggests that matters to you, and yet I was just informed in _no uncertain terms_ that the only reason you didn't let me die tonight was because it's your _job._ Tell me why I should have to justify anything personal to _you_."

"You were willing to chance dying in order to save her life."

"She's important to me."

"I'm starting to understand that," Liz shot back. Breathing heavily, she blinked first and took a step back. "How important is she compared to the work you're doing with me?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Red gave a sharp laugh and turned away from Liz, resuming his position on the couch and casually crossing his legs. "Now _that's_ a question no intelligent man will ever give a straight answer to if he knows what's good for him." Red looked at Liz, who stared down at him, her expression pleading. Red sighed and tilted his head. "Berlin knows how much I care about you. I believe he has other plans for you, in future." Reddington shifted in his seat. "He took my wife because he could take her apart… and mail her back to me. She's expendable. It seems he doesn't think _you_ are." Red looked earnestly at Liz for a long moment. "Which means you're _very_ important to me."

"And yet you said you don't have any friends," Liz prompted. "I'm important to you, but I'm not your friend?"

Red gave a single nod. "I'm sorry. I said that with the intent to hurt you. I didn't like being called an asset. I didn't appreciate being told you had no reason to save my life other than to fulfill the duties of your government job." Red shrugged apologetically. "I struck back."

Liz nodded. After a moment, she began to feel uncomfortable with the way she had barged back in to Reddington's suite, and now felt awkward standing in the middle of the room. She shifted her weight, and looked toward the door, signaling her intent to leave. "Truce?" she offered quietly.

"Always," Red said, allowing a small smile as she opened the door.

"And Red?" Liz paused on the threshold. "Lock this door behind me." And with a soft click she was gone.

…..:::::

So: you all should have heard my squeal when Liz walked in on Red drinking, and said, "Your door was open." Not a week before I wrote that exact premise and opening line of dialogue in Given Name. I definitely had a little mini freak out. :)

And again, I don't think this is the way it _should_ have ended; this was just angsty overflow that needed a home.

Please review before you leave the page! I want to know what people think! Compliments will be accepted gratefully, and trolls will be petted and handed a lollipop. ;)


End file.
